


Rabid Plotbunny Quarantine Centre

by TheCatsTales



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Twilight Series - All Media Types, Women of the Otherworld - Kelley Armstrong
Genre: Crack, Gen, Master of Death Harry Potter, Why Did I Write This?, take nothing seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-08-15 13:45:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8058643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCatsTales/pseuds/TheCatsTales
Summary: A dumping ground for random plot ideas I've had but haven't written more than an outline or a chapter or two for. Mostly Harry Potter crossovers.





	1. Harry Potter/Women of the Otherworld - MoD Harry

**Author's Note:**

> I'm frequently mobbed by rabid plot bunnies that bounce around inside my head until I write them down. I figured that if I'm writing them anyway, I may as well share them. The majority of what I post here will be first chapters of potential fanfics that I haven't worked out a real plot for yet; some may become fully fledged fics at some point, but others I lost inspiration for after writing the first chapter or two and this is likely as far as they'll go.  
> Let me know if there are any chapters/ideas you find particularly interesting and/or something you would like to see become a proper fic. I can't guarantee I'll be able to dredge up inspiration for it, but it is surprising how much other people's enthusiasm can prompt more ideas and get a fic rolling. Also, if you see something here that gives you an idea for a fic of your own, feel free to use it and leave a comment so I can see what you write (but please don't use any of my OCs without my permission).
> 
> There has been no beta reading, minimal editing, and most of these were written on my phone while caffeine fueled and sleep deprived on the commute to work. There will be grammar errors and there will also probably be places were I make mistakes about canon, because I haven't fact checked anything.
> 
> If you are one of the patiently waiting, long suffering readers of The Path Less Traveled, then fear not, I have not abandoned the story! The next chapter is 80% done, but that last 20% is like pulling teeth. If it's any consolation, it is going to be a huge chapter when it's finally done...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is the Master of Death. After eons of dealing with the drudgery of dealing with the afterlife, he gets a chance to break the monotony and indulge in a little meddling. When Fate asks him to resurrect two souls who fell through a portal into the afterlife, he grabs the opportunity to return to the land of the living.

Death is boring.

Death is also annoying. Or, rather, the many manifestations of Death that have been created by many races over many years in many universes are annoying. There are _thousands_ of them and they all want me to deal with their problems _right now_ because it is _urgent_.

It is not urgent. It is never urgent. We exist in a timeless, endless plane that can access any instant of any universe throughout the entirety of time and existence. It _cannot be_ urgent. Mortals cheating death is not urgent. Crazy psychopaths who believe total genocide will endear them to Death are not urgent. The _end of the world_ is not urgent. 

Yet still they come to me with questions and requests and problems that aren't problems. 

Master, the humans have created another immortality serum. (So? They'll all die in the end anyway. They always do.)

Master, the space faring species are blowing up planets again. (If they want to destabilise their galaxy, let them. The affairs of the living aren't my problem.)

Master, a necromancer is creating a zombie army. (Ick, but still not my jurisdiction. If people won't dispose of their dead properly of course they'll have a necro problem. Damn things are worse than vultures.)

 _Master, Master, Master, Master..._

I wish I'd never heard of the Deathly fucking Hallows.

I need a holiday...

(Hello, by the way. Consider the fourth wall broken. I'm Harry. You may remember me from things such as that book series I never got any gratuities for and was overly cleaned up from actual events. The full story involved more swearing, more violence, and a broom closet incident with myself and a seventh year that tops any story Seamus can tell you and nearly gave Professor Sinistra a heart attack. I may or may not remember that you are here but feel free to presume anything in parentheses is addressed to you - I can't keep you from your delusions. Stuff not in parentheses may also be addressed to you. I'm inconsistent like that.)

 

~~~~~~~~~~

When I was alive, I spent a lot of my time cursing Fate. Now that I'm dead, I still spend a lot of time cursing Fate but for different reasons.

It is surprising how your priorities change when you die. Or perhaps it isn't. After all, one of the biggest priorities of the living is continuing to live. It is rare that the dead have reason to worry about their continued existence. 

Regardless, surprise or no, your priorities do change when you die. For most, their family and friends become the priority. They spend time catching up with the dead ones and worrying over the still living. It's funny really, how much the dead worry about the death of their loved ones despite knowing how much _easier_ death is. It's even weirder to those of us who know that, technically, everybody is already dead, even as they are all still alive. Time belongs to the living. Death doesn't _need_ time. Nothing grows, nothing truly changes, and everything is really a shapeless mist of existence that only takes form because we believe we should have a form. However, living in a timeless, shapeless plane is confusing for your average dead Joe (or Jane, because political correctness somehow managed to make it into the realm of the dead - and didn't that upset billions of fascist souls who just want to live in fantasy land where the few thousand souls like theirs are somehow more _important_ than the countless billions of other souls - and if I ever find out which lack witted deity was responsible for that headache, I'm going to make them scrub down a disused hell dimension with a fucking _toothbrush_ ), so their belief that time should keep moving forwards and never be stagnant traps them into an existence where they can only process events chronologically. But I digress.

As I was saying: Fate is a bitch. Fate continues to be a bitch even after you die because Fate still finds ways to screw with you. This is doubly true if you happen to be a human who accidentally became the embodiment of Death the Entity (not to be confused with avatars of death, which are infinitely more annoying and numerous and primarily invented by you lot. Why do so many of them carry deadly weapons? Why can't you picture Death as something small and cute, like a chinchilla that gently carries you into death on its back? Life gets a stork that delivers babies, I get a scythe-wielding lunatic).

Fate is not to be confused with the Fates. The Fates are like Fate's customer service reps; understaffed, underpaid and taking blame for problems caused by the Big Boss. The Fates are the only ones most people will ever meet, deities included. But lucky, lucky me? I'm classed as an entity, so whenever Fate decides she hasn't smacked me around enough I get to deal with Queen Bitch herself so she can do it in person.

Which is how I ended up here, wondering if it was possible for me to become the only being in existence to kill an entity. If anyone could pull it off, it would be Death's Master wouldn't it?

~~~~~~~~~~

"No."

I wasn't hopeful that a direct refusal would work. Fate always got her way. It is the embodiment of what she is. You can't fight Fate, you can't change Fate, you can only watch helplessly and swear as she screws you with your pants on. And looking at her smug, smug smile, she knows that and she loves every second of it.

"Are you sure that is the answer you are looking for?" she asked with all the innocence of the child whose face she wore (creepy, by the way. Five year old girls should not be able to peer into your soul).

"I want it on record - again - that I despise you with every iota of my being, and at the end of all existence I will relish that fraction of an instant when I exist and you don't," I growled, folding my arms and scowling as that childish face adopted a very unchildlike look of condescension.

"Noted. As it has been in every meeting since you embraced your status in existence," she said in a warm tone, like a mother humouring a child who has said something funny. The condescending smile ruined the effect.

"So where am I looking this time? Heaven? Hell? River of Souls? Cloud Nine?" I asked expectantly. Better to get down to business; continuing personal conversations just leads to disappointment. Even after countless ages, I remain disappointed when the things I throw in irritation don't damage the one I'm throwing them at.

"Now, Harry, you know that is not knowledge I posses. The Realm of Death is not mine to manage," she smiled. One day I'm going to watch her lose that smile, even if I have to wait until the end of existence (which I probably will, but it will be worth it).

"Fine. Soul signature and payment?" I huffed.

She looked at me disappointedly. I don't know why she bothers. That look hasn't worked on me since I was seventeen and human, whether it comes from twinkly eyed old men or little girl impersonators who look like I've trampled a kitten in front of them.

"Payment Harry? Whatever happened to entities working together for the benefit of existence?" she asked chidingly even as she floated a silver ball of energy towards me. I raised an eyebrow.

"You trapped me into an eternity I neither wanted nor was built to survive with my sanity intact," I said dryly, catching the ball and memorising the feel of it. "You don't get any freebies for altering my mind and soul later when it never should have happened at all. So, payment."

"You are the Master of Death. Death is your domain as Fate is mine. We do not earn rewards simply for fulfilling our reason to exist," she argued back, in that same annoyingly mild tone with a hint of chiding. It was the same argument we had every time, yet neither of us ever deviated from the script.

"Death is my domain. Returning people back to life goes directly against the fabric of what I am," I said, completing my part of the act. "Payment."

Fate heaved a long suffering sigh, as though my failure to change the script was a great disappointment. It probably was. She knew what I was going to request and she never liked it. Not that I cared.

"Hmm, and I suppose your payment request remains the same as ever?" she asked, finally losing the mild tone in favour of an annoyed one and pursed lips.

"Try not to let the shock overwhelm you."

Again with the deep, disappointed sigh.

"Very well. The return of a soul in exchange for a single trip into the Chamber of Fate," she intoned seriously. 

I snorted. The drama and mysticism may have impressed me when I was new to the job, but now I had a thousand things I'd rather be doing than listening to it. Like looking up Snape's soul and having an in depth discussion of my inadequacies (the guy's ability to hold a grudge is both impressive and alarming. He has to be the most miserable bastard I've ever met. Seriously, don't drag your grudges into death, you'll be consumed by them and spend eternity alone).

"Yes yes, I will violate the laws of nature in exchange for a rummage through your toy box and a chance to scribble on your drawing board. Are we done here? I have three avatars fighting over who should process the soul of an alien that died in Egypt, and while their doing that they're _not_ doing the rest of their work," I said, rolling my eyes and folding my arms as I gave her an expectant look.

When I abruptly found myself sitting in the middle of a barren desert I concluded that yes, we were done with business and she had stopped finding my attitude amusing. 

Brushing myself off with a grumble, I twisted on my heel and transported myself into the chaotic mess that was my base of operations. An eclectic selection of inventions, memorabilia and random doohickeys made it look like Dumbledore's office on steroids. Unfortunately, the three figures who had been there when I received Fate's request for a meeting were still there and still bickering.

"Right, shut it the lot of you!" I snapped. The three of them spun around, mouths snapping shut and looking sulky. Idly I wondered if they had even noticed my absence. "Anubis, get lost. I don't even know why they called you here, you haven't been responsible for the dead in Egypt for an age, relatively speaking," I said, waving my hand dismissively.

He left, giving the others a smug look. The remaining two glared at each other, looking so much like sulky, squabbling children that I contemplated sticking them in time out until I wanted to deal with them. Unfortunately for me I now had errands to run, and while time is unimportant when interfering with the living, the second Fate thinks I'm stalling she'll kick up a fuss and start pestering me (and by pester I mean orchestrate a natural disaster that wipes out half a galaxy so I'm forced to deal with it - that doing that causes even more delays doesn't seem to matter to her).

"You, the one whose name sounds like a dying engine," I said, waving a hand at the mechanical giant. Language barriers aren't really a thing in death because everybody can understand every language, but sometimes it isn't worth the effort it takes to pronounce someone's name. Especially not when I'm in a bad mood. "Why aren't you dealing with your own dead?"

The following whistles, beeps and mechanical grinding noises essentially boiled down to "not my planet, not my problem".

I held up a hand, forestalling the other figure's objections.

"If the soul in question worshipped you in life it is your responsibility in death, regardless of the location of their body at the time of death," I said flatly, before unceremoniously ejecting them from the plane. As much as I grumbled about Fate doing it to me, dumping someone into a barren, purgatory plane is an excellent way to end a conversation you don't want to be having.

It never ceased to amaze - and annoy - me that the argument over who should process which souls could happen so damn frequently. Why people thought the avatars of Death would fight over who gets a soul because they _want_ it is beyond me. The lazy bastards put more effort into coming up with reasons why this soul isn't their responsibility than they did into actually processing the things and getting the work over with.

Enjoying the sudden lack of aggravating people in my immediate vicinity, I rummaged down the back of a squishy leather armchair in search of a tracking device. How it always ends up down the back of the armchair I don't know, but that is always where it turns up (except the times it doesn't, which is when I have to use a tracking spell to find the tracker, and _no_ I do not enjoy the irony). Once I had it, I summoned the small ball of energy Fate had given me and fed it into the machine.

The energy ball was a soul signature- the unique frequency that certain beings could interpret to gather knowledge on the soul or, in my case, find that one soul amongst trillions of others - and the machine would tell me where to find it. Both the machine and the energy ball aren't really necessary- technically they don't even exist - but I was born as a human and, while I can make sense of the huge mass of nothingness that is existence after death, I prefer to deal with something more 'real'. After several seconds the machine bleeped and flashed, throwing up coordinates and some basic information about the soul.

"Huh. Could be worse," I said to the empty plane. Talking to yourself is a habit you pick up when you spend the majority of your time alone and the rest of it talking to people you mostly dislike (then again, you lot are here so I could claim to be taking to the people beyond the fourth wall...which sounds even worse, never mind). Still, minor evidence of possible insanity aside, this job wasn't going to be as annoying as I first thought. 

The soul belonged to a sorcerer, which is always a plus (unless they're the demon summoning type, or the only sorcerer they know - then they are so arrogant it is almost worth putting up with Fate's bitching to stick them in a tiny pocket dimension where I will never have to deal with them again). Dealing with supernaturals is easier than dealing with humans - they are far more likely to cooperate without the twenty questions or flat out denial of the more ignorant souls. It is one of the few times when turning up and saying 'hi, I'm Death, now sit still while I whammy you with death magic so I don't accidentally reincarnate you without a head' actually makes things easier and less hysterical (for the record, the headless thing only happened once, in training, and now Nearly Headless Nick can stop complaining about his lack of eligibility for the Headless Hunt).

The second bonus is that he technically isn't dead. Sure, it's hair splitting, but he fell through a portal into the afterlife before the fatal bullet wound could kill him. To the Fates, being nearly dead and landing in death is as good as having died, but apparently someone as pedantic as me was arguing in this guy's favour so the Fates had to take it to the Big Boss, and Fate ruled in favour of pedantry. Pop culture references of my time aside, being nearly dead is a whole different ball game to being completely dead. Someone who is nearly dead is still mostly alive, while someone who is completely dead is...well, _dead_. Death changes a soul, literally; they no longer resonate with the world of the living and being there causes them pain - or at least severe discomfort, as we no longer have bodies to process actual pain. Changing that, to bring someone back in a bona fide resurrection, is not pleasant for anyone involved. 

Nearly dead people, however, don't come with that problem. They are close enough to dead that they can stay in the afterlife with nothing worse than a bit of restlessness (fully alive people who end up on this side of Veil, however, proceed to cause so much trouble that it's easier to just kick them back to life and avoid the headache), but resurrecting them is far easier because they aren't fundamentally changed (soul-wise anyway; the psychological effects of waking up in a should-be-dead body are another matter. Death is traumatic, even if it only nearly happened). The hardest part of returning a nearly dead soul is healing the body, otherwise it's a waste of time because they'll be dead-dead a few minutes later anyway.

With the machine coordinates in mind, I turned on my heel and appeared next to the 'body' of a guy in his twenties. I just barely avoiding standing on him by making a last minute correction to my landing - one thing I miss about real apparating is the instinctive correction magic made to prevent you from landing inside a tree (yeah, those apparition-gone-wrong horror stories? Not true...mostly). Call me sensitive, but there's something unnerving about accidentally stepping in the manifestation of someone's soul (yes, in - your foot goes right through and it's tingly). Not that this guy would notice; completely out for the count, with his conscience wandering around elsewhere. Which is annoying because now I have to find the rest of him. Sending a soul back without the conscience is as bad as fixing the body without a soul (sending a conscience back without a soul is even worse, that's where true psychopaths with no morals come from). 

Hauling the not-dead guy over my shoulder (spirits are heavy for something you can accidentally put your foot through without noticing), I chose a direction and started walking. As long as I focused on the connection between his soul and his conscience, it didn't matter where I walked. The two would be drawn together sooner or later. If only I'd known which of the Fates I was dealing with, I would have travelled straight there and made _them_ piece him back together.

When my next step landed me in a waiting room with an ever changing mosaic, I had a sneaking suspicion they'd overheard that last thought. Unwilling to work to the convenience of some gofer deity, I blasted a hole in the mosaic and stepped through into the nothingness, landing neatly before the Fates, a witch and a half-demon black witch turned ascended angel (and here I thought I had a complex background story).

"Here, hold this," I said, shoving the not-dead soul at the Fates. She quickly flicked to the young woman's face to avoid dropping him. "I'll be back in a sec after collecting my payment."

"Wait! You can't-" the Fates started to splutter as I turned to walk back into the nothingness.

I stopped and turned, raising an eyebrow.

"I can and I am. Half upfront," I waved at the soul she was holding, "and half once I'm paid, because it is a universal constant that Boss Lady is a bitch who delights in making my life miserable and screwing me over. I'll be back shortly," I said, turning and vanishing into the nothing.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

The Chambers of Fate, a.k.a. Fate's Toy Box, a.k.a. Evidence of Fate's Monumental Control Issues. The place where the Fate of every living thing that will ever exist is decided and recorded.

It's a puddle. 

Not even an interesting puddle (can you get interesting puddles? How boring does your life have to be before you are able to rank puddles by how interesting they are). It's the kind of puddle you would find on a road when the local council haven't bothered to fix the drains and it rained heavily. Boring, murky and probably toxic.

Of course, this is only the entrance. Quite well hidden really, given the imposing towers, the labyrinths of caves, the deep lake and the many other much more grand possible entrances surrounding the puddle of dubious origin. Even better (from a security point of view), getting through isn't a matter of simply jumping in. I have to drink it.

It is exactly as disgusting as it sounds. 

As much as I despise Fate (and I really, really do, in case that wasn't clear), I have to admit she has the best security system ever. Eons to develop it will do that, but credit where credit is due. It took me thousands of attempts simply to work out how to get through the front door, and getting in was the easiest bit. 

The slightest mistake in navigation winds up with me booted out and having to wait for next time Fate needs a favour and I can negotiate another exploration attempt. I've lost count of how many attempts I have made, each time learning a little bit more about what not to do, and finally I've mostly cracked it.

My original reason for exploring Fate's toy box was a desperate attempt to undo my destiny. This is the only place in existence where it is truly possible to interfere with Fate and alter somebody's destiny, and at the time I was determined to find a way out of being Master is Death. Now I'm still desperate, but to break the monotony rather than escape my Master of Death responsibilities.

Once inside the chamber, the second step to finding Fate's drawing board is to not move, and simply sit and accept the inevitable fate of being engulfed by the nothingness (I never was able to tell if that was a metaphor for existence or just Fate being a dick and screwing with the minds of visitors). Becoming part of nothing is a uniquely disturbing experience that is beyond the comprehension of the human mind. Suffice to say that it is hard, and it is exponentially harder to navigate through nothing. If I were anything other than what I am, my exploration would have ground to a dead halt here. However, I am me and I am Master of Death, which makes me an entity and that allows me to retain both my sanity and my sense of self while part of nothing.

After carefully navigating through a whole lot of nothing that Fate has somehow built pitfalls in, which is as impressive as it is annoying, comes a painfully cliche period of reliving traumatic life experiences and identifying key elements that will allow passage through into the next event. I am entirely, one hundred percent, unreservedly certain that Fate made the next section after meeting me, because she knew I would one day get here. There is nothing complex about it and it is really rather juvenile: write an appropriately flattering statement about Fate's superiority and power over all, and sign it. Nobody ever claimed entities tried to act like ancient, existence controlling beings (well, actually we _do_ act like ancient, existence controlling beings because that's what we are, but we're nowhere near as refined and dignified as people expect. On a completely unrelated note, Luck does not like being sprayed with a super-soaker and never let Chaos near your shoes).

To cut a long story short, travelling through the Chambers of Fate is equal parts difficult, annoying and full of clichéd metaphors about accepting Fate, with a special side-dish of juvenile attempts to make me admit to Fate's supposed superiority. By the time I made it to the end I was close to saying sod it and giving up altogether, but sheer bloody-mindedness had always been a strong suit of mine.

Discovering that Fate's centre of operations was an actual drawing board, surrounded by reams of paper and cork-boards full of notes, was hilarious enough to make up for the countless failed attempts it took to get here. The only problem I had now was that I had no idea how the changing fate thing worked. 

To the best of my knowledge, I'm the only person who has ever had the right combination of determination and ability to make it this far. At the beginning I'd been able to find others who could offer advice on passing certain obstacles, then I had relied on instinct, trial and error, and some amount of understanding of how Fate works. 

Now I was in unfamiliar territory. Understanding some of how Fate's mind worked wouldn't help me here. This was more than just parlour tricks and convoluted defences, it was the essence of what made Fate Fate. Even if she'd left a handy 'Fate for Dummies' how-to guide lying around, I doubt it would help. 

After some thought, I decided to take my usual approach. I winged it. (An approach that has never ever ended badly for me. Ever.)

Grabbing several papers from random piles and a few from the boards, I stuffed them in my pockets. Then, just to be an arse (and slightly to follow through on my promise, but mostly to be an arse. What can I say, I'm a terrible person), I used one of the markers in the pot by the drawing board to scrawl the Deathly Hallows sign across the unfinished piece currently sitting on the board (an action that may have inadvertently condemned some poor bastard - or world, or galaxy, or maybe even universe - to a terrible fate, but it's hard to feel too guilty about that when there are so damn many of them. Although, if it was one of you lot and your world is now falling apart, I'm sorry. Y'know, in that way where I'm not actually sorry but societal rules dictate I should be). 

As soon as I dropped the marker, the room dissolved around me. I got a brief glimpse of Fate's disapproving face before being dumped into nothingness and left to find my way out.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Do you have any idea what you have just done?" Fate's avatar squawked at me when I stepped back into the weird, misty room with the not-dead people and the angel of dubious origin. 

I looked over my shoulder at the dust that was settling behind me.

"I wouldn't keep blasting holes in your wall if you didn't have such a creepy moving mosaic. Or you could just stop bothering with the waiting room at all. I'm a busy entity," I shrugged. 

The witch looked disapproving but the angel looked positively gleeful (again with doubts that she was good ascension fodder. If I didn't know better, I'd think she was one of Lucifer's chosen, but she lacked that tang if chaos and darkness that made for great bedroom games - and was a sign of Lucifer's influence, but I'm mostly about the bedroom games). The Fates scowled and grumbled in a way that suggested my very existence was a personal insult. The sorcerer was still unconscious and didn't seem to have much opinion about anything.

"You are perfectly aware of what it is I am talking about," the Fates said in a tone that suggested they would dearly like to snap at me but didn't quite dare.

"Ah, that," I said in a tone of exaggerated realisation. "I have half an idea and some theories. Mostly I know I've pissed off certain beings that I'm happy to have pissed off."

The jaw tic that most avatars develop around me is always fun to see.

"You have no idea-"

"No, no," I interrupted. "I told you, I have half an idea."

"You have interfered with-"

"I really preferred the word meddled. It has a certain ring to it, don't you think?" I butted in again with a cheerful bounce on the spot.

The Fates looked vaguely homicidal as the angel interrupted (interrupting my interruption, how rude!).

"As much as I would love to see how much you can prod before the powers that be retaliate," the demon-witch-angel said, sounding completely serious, "these kids need to go back before they get stuck here. They've been here too long already."

I waved a hand dismissively, "It's fine, they've got forever. You don't get more dead as time goes on."

"Yes, you do?" the angel said, looking at me like I was an idiot. "After the first few days of being dead it becomes harder to return. People stop fighting to get back once they've been put through initiation."

"Initiation?" I repeated dryly. I suppose it was as good a word as any. "The processing of a soul doesn't make them more dead, it makes them less hysterical about being dead. Think of it like moving house with a cat; at first the cat freaks out but it gradually calms down until it accepts the change and settles in the new house." 

"You're comparing death with moving house?" the witch asked incredulously. 

"No, I'm comparing dying to moving house. Death is the new house," I clarified helpful. She didn't look like she found it all that helpful but the Fates jaw was twitching, so I continued. "But you," I waved at the witch, "are still alive, so you're like the angsty teen who blames her parents for ruining her life with the move and never really settles. Don't believe anything the Fates there have told you, you aren't staying. I have enough headaches without you running around."

Simultaneously relieved and insulted makes for amusing facial expressions. The relief abruptly turned into worry as she glanced down at the resident unconscious sorcerer.

"What about Lucas?" she asked challengingly. "I won't go back without him."

I tilted my head with a considering him. "You seem to think your opinion matters. Going back isn't a choice; if I kick you out of death, you'll go whether you want it or not," I informed her, smirking slightly as the momentary grief was replaced by a stubborn expression.

"If you send me back without him, I'll just return. You can't stop me from killing myself," she declared. My smirk grew.

"You're making two awfully big presumptions there," I said casually. If that look of helpless, stubborn rage was how I used to look, it's no wonder Snape used to pick on me whenever he was feeling vindictive (what? I never denied having a petty mean-streak that let me take my problems out on everyone else. It mostly replaced my martyr complex over the last few millennia. The jury's out on which is the most unhealthy). "The first being that I care whether you live or not. As long as you're dead the next time you leave the world if the living I couldn't care less. The second being an assumption that I can't prevent you from dying. Temporary immunity to death is laughably easy, if I feel so inclined," I said with a sunny smile.

The witch glared at me while the angel looked like she was contemplating which of my body parts to remove first. The Fates sighed.

"He is not going to leave either of you here," she said with forced patience. "He accepted the job and he collected his payment," here she glared at me like I'd decapitated her favourite unicorn, "so he will return both of you."

"Yes, yes, remove both not-dead people or forever be nagged. You destiny types are no fun," I grumbled. "The angel stays here, though. She's dead and ascended and entirely too scary looking for me to want to mess with her soul," I said, tone serious despite the joking words.

"We had no intention of sending Eve back," the Old Crone said testily (I'm not being irreverent when I call her that...I'm _mostly_ not being irreverent - it is the name of the old woman form the Fates can wear).

"Excellent, two not-dead people for me, one badass angel for you," I grinned, hauling the sorcerer up onto my shoulder again and snatching his conscience out of the air with a wave of my hand. Flicking a few fingers on my other hand, I opened a rift to the living world and said to the witch, "You go through there. You'll land wherever it was you came from. I'll follow in a second with lover boy here."

I'm not sure if the dirty look was because I smacked her unconscious boyfriend on the ass or because I was making them go back separately.

"How do I know you'll bring him back," she asked suspiciously.

"You don't, really," I said with an unrepentant shrug. "I will be perpetually bitched at if I don't though, so if you don't trust me, trust my dislike for being bitched at. Or don't and I'll just kick you through. Up to you."

She gave me a frankly magnificent glower (and I have Hermione, Snape and McGonagall to compare to - I know a good glower when I see one) and reluctantly stepped through. The rift snapped shut behind her.

"Wow. Tetchy," I said into the ensuing silence. I dropped the sorcerer. "How can something non-corporeal be so heavy?"

The angel made a noise like a wet cat. "You-"

"Calm yourself, Eve," the Fates soothed as I knelt beside the unconscious man. "He is simply ensuring Lucas returns in one piece. Now if you would give us a second alone, we have other business to discuss."

The angel scowled but obediently vanished. The Fates turned to me with a stern look.

"Hold that thought," I said, holding up a finger as she opened her mouth. "This is a tricky bit."

I wasn't even lying (this time). Reattaching a conscience to a soul is hard, especially when the soul is uncooperative. Several swear words and one threat to reincarnate his entire family line as armadillos later (what? Have you seen an armadillo, they look ridiculous. And I know a soul who used to shot them and make them into hats), the sorcerer's conscience was back where it belonged. He was also entirely unconscious, with not even his conscience buzzing around to eavesdrop. A rare event in the afterlife, where physical trauma outside a hell dimension was often deemed impossible (it isn't, it's just extremely difficult and far less effort to force someone into a hell dimension and hurt them there. Just in case you ever feel the need to torture dead people). A convenient rare event though, as it gave us time to talk without pesky mortals listening in.

"You were saying?"

"I suppose you are going to _meddle_ now?" the deity spat at me.

"Why are you shouting at me? It's not my fault Fate told me to resurrect someone," I said mildly.

"And I suppose you took materials out of the Chambers of Fate out of academic interest," she said acidly.

My eyebrows rose. That was interesting.

"Well, I wasn't planning to meddle, but if you insist," I smirked to cover up my ignorance. Asking questions wouldn't be helpful anyway - only Fate's lackeys knew anything and they wouldn't help me on principle - and I'd always preferred learning on the job. 

Hopefully the world wouldn't blow up while I was there. It was annoying when that happened.

~~~~~~~~~~

The great thing about non-linear time when joining the living world is that you never miss people's reactions to being resurrected. It also gives you time to fix the fatally damaged bodies before sticking the soul back inside so everyone wakes up in one dramatic, simultaneous resurrection (what? I'm wizard, we own dramatic flair). 

The disadvantage to watching a resurrection when the ones involved are lovers is that clothes start flying as soon as the initial 'yay, your mortal wound is gone' moment is over. With several millennia under my belt, I'm hard to fluster but that doesn't mean I want to watch two people going at it in an alley (unhygienic for one thing, seriously; the number of discarded hypodermics is making _me_ wary of where I put my feet, and I can't even catch hepatitis). 

Fortunately, someone else interrupted before I had to. The fact that the interrupter was a very attractive, very naked woman didn't hurt. The fact that she was a werewolf who gave off a definite 'fuck with me, lose a vital part of your anatomy' vibe did hurt - or would, if she found out half of what I'm thinking. Immortality wasn't the same as invulnerability (to disease and poisons, yes, to claws and teeth and _owowow_ not so much), and speaking as someone who has previous experience with losing limbs, it is not an experience I'd care to repeat.

It was the werewolf's mate who spotted me first. On the one hand, I completely understood the guy's reaction to the creepy stranger standing in the shadows watching his mate and friends. On the other hand:

"Ow. Seriously, fido, down. Concussion is not fun," I grunted as I was slammed into the wall. The growling of the guy holding my throat was not reassuring (not that someone holding my throat is reassuring in many circumstances, growling or no).

"Who the hell are you?" he snarled. At the same time as the witch gasped "It's you!"

"Paige? You know him?" the female werewolf asked curiously. The hand around my throat relaxed slightly, not even close to being escapable (well, escapable by human methods at least) but enough that imminent violence was unlikely. Oddly, the owner of the hand was looking at his mate for cues, not the witch who held the answers.

"He was there, when we fell through the portal," she said, waving a hand towards the spot where the divide between life and death was disturbingly thin. I'd have to fix that at some point, before some pesky necro comes along and messes with thing better left untouched. If this world had necromancers, that is.

"Hey, quick question. Necromancers: real or fakes who are good at reading people and exploiting grieving widows?" I asked. I was ninety percent certain they were the real deal in this world, but it's always worth getting confirmation.

"What?" 

"Necromancers. Y'know, communicate with the dead, can be seen hanging around graveyards, occasionally known to desecrate innocent bodies."

"I know what a necromancer is," the witch huffed.

"So they are real, excellent. Or not so excellent, but having confirmation is nice," I said, nodding as much as I was able to with the hand still wrapped around my throat.

"So you aren't a necromancer?" the witch asked with raised eyebrows.

"Hmm. I suppose that depends on how you classify a necro. Arguably, yes I am, but I'm not your run of the mill necro either," I mused. 

"No kidding," the witch said with raised eyebrows. I should probably learn the names of these lovely people if I'm going to be spending any time here. 

"I am sensing sarcasm. What did the wolf lady call you? Paige, was it?" I asked, tilting my head. The sudden subject change seemed to throw them again.

"Wolf lady?" said wolf lady said, raising her eyebrows. Her mate growled and tightened his grip.

Giving the handsy were' an unimpressed look - I'd heard fiercer growls from Ron's stomach - I grinned at the female werewolf. "You're a wolf and, unless that clothing is hiding a very unexpected secret, you're a lady, so wolf lady seems appropriate. Of course, you also look like you would cheerfully snap my neck and leave me behind a dumpster the second I became a hassle. Or you could have your peon here do it for you, which would practically make you aristocracy where I come from; Lady Black's ability to casually order the termination of minor inconveniences in her life during breakfast was much admired back in the day. Which honestly explains why we had so many issues enforcing the law, now that I think about it."

The group exchanged looks before silently concluding that I had lost my marbles (which is both true and rude), or so I assumed from the unanimous decision to ignore everything I had just said. Or at least most of it.

"How did you know I was a werewolf?" scary wolf lady asked, narrowing her eyes.

"You have that barely restrained aura of wilderness that can only be achieved by becoming one with the fluffy bunny murderer inside you," I said knowledgeably. Just as it looked like surly wolf man was about to hit me, I added, "Also, I was here when you were talking about it. You should work on your whistle. Or buy one. You can wear it on a cord around your neck so you don't lose it. My old coach had one - nearly deafened us with the bloody thing, so it should be an excellent substitute for howling as a long distance communication method. I'd recommend a dog whistle so it's easier to use without detection, but I think that would put me at risk of losing a limb."

"You know, I'm not sure if that's a brilliant idea or utterly stupid," the female werewolf said (if the male were' hadn't spoken earlier I would have begun to doubt he knew what words were - maybe he could only manage monosyllabic ones?). 

"My ideas generally get that response," I nodded. "Anyway, introductions. I'm Harry, he's Lucas, she's Paige - I think - and I might have heard you being called Ellie something? Who's your verbose companion?"

"Elena," the wolf corrected. "And the verbose one is Lucas," she grinned. It was a nice grin, one that told me to push the issue at my peril. It's always nice to meet a lady who warns you when evisceration is only a toe over the line away (I am fully aware that I have questionable taste in women, not that you sadists can comment. I have mastered the internet and I can categorically state that I have never and will never have any desire to sleep with Voldemort, Snape or either Malfoy. Or Dudley. Seriously, what is _wrong_ with you people?)

"Ah, nameless and talkative. Did you find him wild in the forest and tempt him in with food and a warm place to sleep?" I grinned. 

Elena gave a startled laugh. The man didn't find it so amusing, tightening his grip with a bitten off growl.

"Ok, down fido, I come in peace. I was only hanging around to make sure the resurrection took properly and I hadn't accidentally created a psychopath or left holes in vital organs," I said, patting his arm. Unsurprisingly he made no move to release me. I sighed. "Aren't people looking for you? You vanished in a back alley and I didn't compensate for passing time when I reopened the portal, someone should have noticed you missing." Please let someone have noticed their absence. The sorcerer had both parents and three brothers, surely one of them would notice him missing? I'd wanted to skulk around and meddle from the shadows, being interrogated hadn't been in my plans.

"He's right, we should let the others know what happened," Paige said, digging in her pocket for her phone.

While she was busy doing that, the wolf who _still > had me by the throat decided to express his distaste for my general existence by tightening his grip and snarling._

_"W-words are a thing y'know," I gasped when he let me go._

_"I don't trust you," he growled. My monosyllabic theory is getting stronger every time he speaks._

_"Probably wise. I'd try to reassure you but I think you'd just bite me. If it helps, I'm an entirely neutral party who has no idea what is going on, but unless truth serum or wolfy lie detector abilities are a thing, you're not going to believe me and I can't prove anything," I shrugged. The manhandling and aggression didn't bother me. If anything, it was refreshing to deal with someone who was open about their distrust. Words games could be fun, and I'd gotten much better at them since meeting Fate, but there was a certain charm to people who made no secret of their disdain for polite societal requirements._

_"Bad news," the witch said, reappearing with a grim look. "Bad guy _not_ dead."_

_"Oh good," I said, raising my eyebrows. "I always love not being able to claim plausible deniability for premeditated murder."_


	2. Harry Potter/Twilight - Rumour Has It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is a wizard to do when he finds himself surrounded by high school going vampires? Annoy them as much as humanly possible, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is complete crack. I have no idea where it came from or why I wrote it. I blame sugar and 5am starts. I don't even like Twilight...I do, however, like sarcastic, trouble making Harry :D

Harry was used to ending up in awkward situations. He didn't used to be. When he was younger the idea of ending up in a situation where he had no idea what happening or how he should respond was one of his worst nightmares. Now it was an unavoidable fact of life.

Still, finding himself in the middle of a class full of teenagers, in a muggle school, with an array of science paraphernalia in front of him was more awkward than he was used to. It would be less awkward if he wasn't one of the teenagers.

He really, really hated being Master of Death sometimes. Most of the time, if he was honest. He'd probably feel better about it if Death was less of a git about the whole having a master thing.

Having no idea what he was supposed to be doing, he peered around the classroom curiously. The other students were all busy doing...stuff. Torturing onions by the look of it.

The guy next to him huffed, "I know you're new but you could at least pretend to pay attention."

Turning, Harry came face to face with a bronze haired boy who looked like he could do with a good few hours of sleep and some time out in the sun. He was also unnaturally beautiful, and Harry knew a lot about unnatural beauty (and whatever Fleur claimed, it was not his fault her cousin whammied him with veela magic to get him into bed - the fifth and six time she walked in on them may have been his fault, though). There was no way this kid was human, and as he was also giving off some definite not-entirely-alive vibes, Harry was going with vampire.

Well then. What kind of vampire relived school? He clearly wasn't newly turned - there was a distinct lack of trying to eat people going on - and he didn't have that creepy just-let-me-have-a-taste look about him, either, so he probably wasn't looking for his next meal either. So that left paedophile or guy who needed a hobby (or both).

Belatedly Harry realised he'd been staring in silence for so long it had gotten awkward. Which also meant he'd reached the point where being the first to break eye contact meant he was showing weakness to an apex predator. If his six week stint living with Sanguini's clan had taught him anything, it was that backing down was not an option unless you wanted to be scraping the bottom of the hierarchy barrel (it also taught him that Kingsley had a sadistic streak a mile wide - if those six weeks were honestly a 'diplomatic necessity' Harry was a niffler; it was clearly a punishment for all the repairs the Department of Mysteries needed in Harry's first sixth months).

Unfortunately that meant the hottest guy in school, who never paid attention to anyone (hopefully - Harry was running with the sad-vampire-needs-a-hobby theory and hoping the bad-touch theory could be shelved), and the new kid, who also happened to be a guy, were staring deep into each other's eyes. Harry could practically hear the swooning going on from the girls, and the rumour mill kicking into top gear. Oh joy of joys, he had so _missed_ teen drama.

Still, he refused to look away. He would not be bested by some tousle-haired, ivory-skinned, hobby-less bloodsucker who was reliving high school...and looked remarkably familiar.

"I'm going to end up calling you Cedric. Just a heads up," he said cheerfully, never breaking eye contact.

The vampire blinked, shook his head and glanced quickly around the room. Harry tried not to look to smug about his victory.

"Why?" was the question the vampire eventually settled on.

"Cos," Harry shrugged. "I didn't know your name, so I've named you. And no take backsies."

Oh Merlin, did he really just say that? Was teenage insanity contagious?

"Right," not-Cedric said dubiously. "Are you planning to do any work?"

"You seem to have it covered," Harry shrugged. It wasn't like he was the one who wanted to relive his school years.

"This practical is likely to come up on the exam," not-Cedric pushed.

"So I'll revise for it extra hard," Harry dismissed.

"Do you even know what you're doing?" the frustrated vampire hissed.

"What are you, my mother? Why do you care if I pass?" Harry grumbled. He desperately hoped this wasn't evidence of the vampire's hidden and thus-far unrealised desire to teach. Ron would laugh himself sick if he ended up with a vampire tutoring him in the muggle sciences.

"I have no intention of doing all the work," not-Cedric growled back. They still hadn't broken eye contact again - the girl behind them was going strain something if she kept holding in the squeals of excitement (clearly she couldn't actually hear what they were oh-so-lovingly whispering to each other).

"So fail," Harry shrugged. "I don't care." 

The vampire made a strangled noise of annoyance and proceeded to ignore the wizard. He did do the work, though, Harry thought smugly. And the vampire had looked away first, twice.

Harry contained a snort as he watched; not-Cedric wasn't even trying to be subtle as he barely glanced at the microscope before jotting down the answers. He was barely keeping it to plausible human ability level - anybody with prior supernatural experience would spot him a mile off.

"Don't know why you were complaining," Harry muttered once the vampire was finished. The barely contained growl he got in return made him smirk. Nobody had ever accused Harry of resisting the urge to prod a sleeping dragon. "Really, you did it so fast one would think you'd done this before."

Was that the sound of grinding teeth he could hear? He hadn't had this much fun since pointing out to Snape that he could call him up for a chat _whenever he wanted_ (Harry still wasn't sure the dead could have aneurisms but Snape had certainly come close). 

Before Harry could think up anything else to say to ensure the vampire hunted him down, the teacher came over, giving Harry an entirely new way to nail his proverbial coffin shut.

"Are we finished here gentlemen?" the teacher asked jovially.

"Yes sir. Though I have to thank my excellent lab partner for his help. He really helped me understand everything much better," Harry said with a beaming smile. Let nobody say he didn't know how to use his good looks and 'charming' accent (personally, Harry didn't understand the fuss made over the accent but prior experience showed that the Yanks liked it, so he'd use it to full effect).

"You didn't leave all the work to Mr. Cullen, did you Mr. Potter?" the teacher asked sternly.

"No sir. He explained some of theory to me but inisisted I try it for myself," Harry said, going for slightly annoyed but 'hiding' it over wide-eyed innocence. Nothing made a teacher suspicious faster than innocence. "He wrote everything down, though," the wizard said with a rueful laugh. "I didn't want to subject him to my awful handwriting in his notes."

Oh dear, the underside of this desk would never be the same, if those creaking noises were anything to go by. How unfortunate.

After some blathering about how glad he was to see Harry settling in and working hard the teacher moved off to help the rest of the class, leaving Harry alone with a murderous vampire.

"Cute," growled said murderous vampire.

"I am rather, aren't I?" Harry said with a grin.

"I could tell him that you were lying," Cullen pointed out.

"Please do," Harry grinned. "Just give me a second to practise my kicked puppy look for when you go to tell the teacher that the new student - who was just singing your praises for all the help you gave - copied all your work, lied to the teacher's face and you felt no need to speak up while it was all going on. I do an excellent 'why do the bullies always pick on me' routine."

Oh look, even more table creaking.

"If you break that it's not going to matter whether I did the work or not, they'll be too busy yelling at you to care," the wizard said cheerfully. Not-Cedric yanked his hands back like he'd been burnt, glaring at Harry like it was the wizard's fault that table almost suffered an unfortunate accident. "I don't know why you're glaring at me. I didn't make you do all the work or nearly break the table. You did that yourself while I sat here doing nothing."

More inarticulate growling. How fun!

Spending the rest of class provoking the vampire probably wasn't the smartest thing Harry had ever done but it was the most fun he'd had in a while. It certain beat being in work and having to explain to Hermione exactly how the newest time-turner project had ended up in the Brain Tank (Harry was still undecided which would be worse: explaining to Hermione or diving into the tank to retrieve the time-turner).

Harry felt accomplished when, at the end of class, not-Cedric scooped up his books and bag and was out of the door before anyone else had stood up.

"What's wrong with Edward? You seemed to be getting on well during class," the girl behind him asked in well faked concern. Harry swallowed a grin - he hadn't had to look hard to find the school gossip.

Fixing a slightly sheepish smile on his face, Harry answered, "Oh, I think came on a little strong. I don't think he's fully come to terms with...things yet, if you know what I mean. I didn't mean to upset him." 

He contained his triumphant look as the penny dropped with the girl. Had the vampire been a real teenager, Harry would have felt terrible about doing this (or, you know, just not have done it) but not-Cedric was at least fifty so Harry considered him fair game. Also, by 'outing' himself on day one he avoid the awkwardness of girls trying to date him. He'd had enough of the teenage love scene the first time he tried it.

"You mean Edward is...are you sure?" the girl asked in hushed tones, as though she wasn't planning to tell the rest of the school as soon as she made it out of the classroom.

"Well, I'm rarely wrong about these things," a complete lie - Harry barely recognised interest when someone beat him over the head with it, "but you've know him longer. Have you ever known him to date, or even look at girls with interest?" he asked. The answer had better be no, even if the vampire wasn't gay - if Harry found out the guy was dating school kids, he'd set fire to the bastard at the earliest opportunity. 

The wide eyes of the girl told him that, no, the vampire hadn't dated anyone at school. In fact, Harry would bet his broomstick that the girl had been turned down by not-Cedric at some point and was now clinging to the rationale that it was because the guy was gay. 

"Do you need help finding the cafeteria?" she asked after a moment of poorly hidden glee at being the first to hear what must be the most exciting gossip this small town had heard in months.

"Eh, sure if you're offering," he said, quirking a smile that was returned full force. 

Harry suspected they were smiling for different reasons.

«««««ϵ( 'Θ' )϶»»»»»

To observers, the Cullen's table was always quiet. Listening in on vampires' conversations was not easy, what with them speaking too fast and too low for anyone to understand. Today, however, the table truly was quiet as Edward sat fuming while Jasper concentrated on blocking out his brother's negative emotions and the unusual amount of interest directed at their table, while trying not to breathe and smell the fresh blood he was surrounded by. Alice had given up drawing either of them into conversation and was ripping her food into shreds and arranging it artfully on her plate.

That silence was shattered by the arrival of Emmet.

"Edward, dear old brother of mine, is there something you forgot to share with the family?" he asked with a shit-eating grin, cackling when Edward snarled at him.

"I'm going to kill him," the bronze-haired vampire snarled. "That infuriating little pest."

"Aww, you shouldn't be ashamed of your crush. The whole school already knows about it," Emmet smirked. "If you're worried about what your family will think, then I give you and the little pipsqueak our blessing."

The continuous, subvocal snarl didn't deter the larger vampire.

"It's quite impressive really. I've never seen you so wound up over a human," he continued. "Is he actually interested or is he just getting revenge for your astounding charm and wit?"

"I don't know," Edward bit out. Every head at the table snapped towards him. 

"How can you _not know_?" Rosalie demanded.

"I can't hear his thoughts," the mind reader explained tightly. "They are there but it's like listening through water or trying to pick out a single voice in a crowd I can barely hear."

"Is he dangerous?" Emmet asked, joking tone gone as they looked to Alice and Jasper.

Alice shrugged daintily. "I haven't seen anything but that could just mean that he hasn't made a solid plan yet."

"He doesn't feel hostile or anything particularly strong towards us. He is interested in Edward," Jasper said with a small frown. He rolled his eyes when Emmet wolf whistled. "An interest that is mostly curiosity and humour with a bit of wariness mixed in - no lust involved, thankfully. If I had to guess, I'd say you caught his interest with whatever you did in biology and now he's deliberately trolling you to get a response. The wariness is probably in case you react badly."

"Should we tell Carlisle?" Rosalie asked.

"What, that the new kid is poking Edward with a stick to see how he reacts? High school drama is annoying, not life threatening," Emmet shrugged.

"But something's off if Edward can't read him. I don't like it," the blonde beauty scowled.

"Aww, don't scowl like that. It would be a great shame if the wind changed and your face got stuck that way," a voice said from behind them, in a distinct British accent.

«««««ϵ( 'Θ' )϶»»»»»

Lunch had been mostly boring with some interesting highlights. Sitting at the popular kids' table meant he got the latest gossip (rather, the gossip that had been hot before he'd become the latest gossip), most of which was standard teen fare, and a crash course on who was who.

It was the information on the Cullen's he was most interested in. Not the pseudo-incest thing they had going on that Jessica-what's-her-name made a big deal about, though that reinforced the impression that they weren't particularly skilled at blending in with the humans, but the clues about their vampirism. 

Seven vampires living in a family group; three mated pairs and one loner; all of them were just visible enough to not be conspicuous by their absence, but none interacted with the townsfolk more than necessary; five of seven reliving high school for reasons Harry would never understand; one stay at home mother stroke interior designer; a head of house that worked as a surgeon, of all things. Harry was already contemplating injuring himself enough to need a trip to A&E, just so he could return home and tell Ron that he was treated by a muggle vampire doctor. 

The school going vampires had their established territory that nobody invaded - the Cullen's table as it was known. Of course, telling Harry he couldn't go somewhere guaranteed only one response.

"Whelp, it's been nice talking to you but I have things to see and people to do," Harry said as got up from his seat, shaking off the mind numbing fog of teenage gossip.

"Where are you going?" Jessica asked, surprised.

"To introduce myself to the Cullens, naturally," he grinned.

As he left, he heard one of the lads - Mike, he thought - snigger, "Well,, he did say he had people to do!" in a voice that sounded reluctant impressed.

Sneaking up on vampires never gets old. It's like the hiding around the corner and jumping out at someone, times a million because vampires never, ever expect it, even if you do it hundred times. Nothing can sneak up on a vampire - they can hear the rush of blood in veins, for Merlin's sake - so when you employ magic to do the impossible, the results are delicious.

"I don't know why you are looking at me like that," he said, plopping down into the free seat. The blonde next to him wrinkled her nose at him, eyeing him as though he was something disgusting yet potentially dangerous - it was an interesting facial expression. 

"What do you want?" Edward growled.

"To live with you for ever and ever, and reassure you that there's nothing wrong with batting for the home team," the wizard replied, bating eyelashes. "Haven't you heard the rumours. Everyone knows you've secretly got the hots for me - Jessica what's-her-face told me, so it simply must be true!"

Emmet choked on his laughter, dropping his head onto his arms as his shoulders shook. Harry smiled smugly.

Edward made an aborted movement, as though he wanted to strangle the wizard but thought better of it at the last minute.

"Can we help you?" Alice asked when it seemed that her brother was too enraged to speak. Jasper had a weird expression on his face, as though caught between the same helpless laughter as his muscular brother and the rage radiating from his other brother.

"Hmm, maybe. What sort of help are you offering?"

"Psychiatric," Rosalie muttered, earning a beaming smile from the wizard.

"Aww, I didn't know you cared," he said delighted, throwing his arms around her in a hug she was too stunned to throw off.

Big and muscular's laughter cut off and his head snapped up to glare at the male encroaching on his mate. Harry huffed.

"Relax. I'm gay, remember?" he said winningly.

"Oh yeah, totally. So am I," Emmett snorted.

"Really?" Harry said brightly. "How do you feel about threesomes?" he asked cheerfully.

The vampires gaped at him. The rest of the cafeteria was staring too, though Harry thought that was because he was sitting with the Cullens and making them show actual emotions, not because they'd heard what he said (he hoped, otherwise those rumours would take an interesting turn).

When it became obvious that the vampires were still too stuck on what-the-hell to speak, Harry sighed. 

"Relax. I may not be gay but I don't poach either. Doubly so for mates - that's not something to be taken lightly," he said seriously. Belatedly he remembered that these vampires didn't know that he knew. 

"What?" demanded Jasper.

"Bollocks."

"Who are you and what do you want?" the blonde man asked forcefully. 

Harry's eyebrows rose as he felt a foreign lick of fear curl in his stomach. It would be indistinguishable from his own emotions for anyone else, but Harry had spent years with someone else's soul living in his head; he recognised emotions that weren't his own when he felt them.

That didn't mean the fear didn't affect him.

"Seriously, that's weird. What are you doing?" he asked the table as a whole, working to keep the rising anxiety out of his voice. He wasn't sure who was doing it but it was a safe bet one of the rather hostile looking vampires was responsible.

Unsurprisingly none of them answered. The feeling of fear increased from uh-oh-not-good to oh-Merlin-I'm-gonna-die. Lucky for Harry he was a pro at oh-Merlin-I'm-gonna-die. Even imminent danger of death couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"You're being really unsubtle, you know that?" he said, voice remarkably calm for the amount of fear bubbling in his stomach.

"Answer the question and it'll stop," tall, blonde and handsome pressed.

"Oh, so it's you doing this? That's impressive. I much prefer it to torture, I have to say," Harry said with false cheer.

The feeling ramped up again, making Harry grit his teeth. They were edging into dementor levels of fear now. If he collapsed and started screaming about his mother in the middle of the school cafeteria he was hexing them all bald.

Not-Cedric and his blonde pseudo-brother were staring at him in surprise. 

"It will get worse," blondie threatened. Harry believed him. Still, it was the principle of the thing - he would not be intimidated by a coven of school going vampires, even if one could literally force him to feel intimidated.

"Please, I met scarier things than you at school," Harry scoffed. Very true and also very worrying now that he thought about it.

The fear was almost choking him now and a tiny frown had appeared on Jasper's forehead. Either forcing this much fear onto someone was draining or knowing someone felt so afraid but still refused to give in was concerning. Whichever it was, Harry hoped that little frown was a sign of the vampire giving in.

The bell rang.

It was such an unexpected and jarring sound that all six of them stared at the innocuous piece of metal sitting innocently on the wall. The feeling of fear had vanished, leaving Harry feeling curious and faintly amused.

"Well ladies and gents, it's been a nice chat but I'm afraid..." he pulled out his timetable to check his next lesson. "French, really? What was wrong with me when I picked these? Anywho, French awaits me. Or nap time as it is known." 

He looked through the rest of timetable with something akin to horror. What the hell had he been thinking when he chose these? Maths, biology, French, history, English; it was like he hadn't suffered enough in school the first time. Of course, he wasn't sure if he had chosen them - nobody had explained this reincarnation-but-not-reincarnation to him properly. He still didn't know if he was body-jacking, being created out of nothing or what was going on - for all he knew, Death had chosen his classes to torture him with.

"What a pleasant coincidence, I have French too," Jasper said with a sharp smile.

"Oh yay. You can escort me then," Harry said, returning the smile. "Do you think the rumour mill would explode if I kiss you after class? They already think you lot are in some sort of polygamous relationship and have orgies every night, and they seem to think I'm a player who is trying to join in."

Five snarls and a blonde vampire followed him as he darted out of the cafeteria, cackling. 

"Harry! Do you need help finding your next class?" Jessica asked as she spotted him racing around the corner. Clearly she was planning to interrogate him about his trip to the Cullen's table.

"No thanks, I'm good. Jasper said he'd show me, we're in the same class," Harry declined with a winning smile. A smile that grew as Jasper rounded the corner at as fast a walk as he could get away with around humans.

"You are a menace," he growled at Harry as he caught up. He had that pinched look of a vampire resisting the urge to drain the nearest blood source Harry noted with muted alarm and a lot of curiosity.

"My escort is here," the wizard beamed at Jessica, wrapping an arm around the vampire's waist. He grinned as the girl's eyes bugged out, and if he was using a small trickle of magic to mute the effect the smell of blood had on the vampire, then that was between him and Jasper. Chaos caused, he sauntered off in the direction of French class (he hoped), dragging the shell shocked vampire with him.

"What are you doing?" said vampire hissed at him.

"Making sure you don't drain the school. Shut up and enjoy the effects," Harry muttered back.

"Get off me," Jasper growled back.

"If it really bothered you, you'd have escaped by now," Harry retorted. He smirked smugly when the vampire made no move to throw him off. "See? Just enjoy the lack of burning thirst while it lasts."

When they got to French, Harry had to let the vampire go. As soon as he did, the pinched look returned to vampire's face.

"I don't suppose you could fill me in on what the rumours are now?" Harry asked with a cheeky grin, taking the seat next to the blonde. He was unfazed by the glare he got in return. "You know, I'm starting to think your family doesn't like me."

More silent treatment. This guy wasn't as fun to provoke as not-Cedric. 

"If you don't want to tell me, I can guess," Harry continued. "I imagine by now they think I'm trying snatch you all away from your girlfriends and get with all the guys in the Cullen family. Normally that would have them decrying me as a terrible, immoral man-slut, but this time they don't care about the morality of it. Not that it was ever really about morals, but jealousy has many masks," he said airily.

Nope, still nothing. This one had more self-control than not-Cedric.

"Anywho, they aren't bothered this time because they'd already given up hope of ever being able to break into your social circle. Girls have tried and failed to catch not-Cedric's interest and nobody bothered with the rest of you because it's obvious you're all too tightly knit for anyone to get a look in. And there's that whole pseudo-incest rumour, which I guess is off-putting. Anyway, point is, I'm not ruining anyone's chances so they're all more tolerant. The girls think it's hot and the guys hope that if you all get with me, the girls will be free and they can take their chances," Harry concluded. "Or that's my theory. Am I close?"

"Not-Cedric?" the vampire asked, seemingly against his will.

"Your brother. The brooding one," Harry said helpfully. 

"I'd worked that much out, thanks," Jasper bit out. "I was asking why you called him that."

"Actually you just said 'not-Cedric' in a questioning tone and left interpretation up to me," Harry pointed out.

"Well, now I've clarified the question."

"Yes you have. Well done you."

"Would you care to answer it?"

"You didn't answer my question," Harry pouted. "But fine, Cedric is a guy I used to know. Your brother could be his twin. Now you answer my question."

"No."

"I'll only get more annoying," Harry sing-songed. 

"I think you would struggle to get more annoying."

"You underestimate my powers," Harry said cheerfully. "I still annoy my old teacher and he died years ago."

"So you _aren't_ human," Jasper said, suddenly paying far more attention.

"Answer my question," Harry insisted.

"What question?" Jasper snapped irritably.

"Was I right about the current rumours?"

"Close enough," the vampire grumbled, looking disgusted at having his preternatural abilities used to eavesdrop on teenagers. "Now, human: yes or no?"

"Define human."

"You know what a human is. Stop being difficult."

"But then where would I get my fun?" Harry pouted. A low growl was his reply. "Fine, fine. Touchy. I'm more human than not. Definitely more human than you. I just have a little something extra."

"What do you want with my family?" Jasper asked next, voice more neutral now that he was getting answers.

"Other than the hot sex that the rumour mill insists is imminent? Nothing really. Well, at first I was making sure not-Cedric wasn't reliving his school years because he was snacking on the students, or sleeping with them, because then I would have had to do something about it and I would have been bothered and everything. Now that it turns out you're all here because apparently you have nothing better to do, so mostly I'm entertaining myself at your expense," the wizard shrugged.

"Who are you?" Jasper asked tightly.

"Harry Potter, but I'm pretty sure you knew that. I mean, I am the hottest gossip in the school, you said so yourself," Harry smirked.

"Please tell me you aren't trying to sleep with my brother," Jasper sighed, seeming to decide Harry was a nuisance rather than an threat.

"Ok," Harry shrugged. "I'm not trying to sleep with your brother. I can even say it honestly and without being nit-picky over the fact that tall, dark and angsty isn't actually your brother. I'm not gay. I'm firmly subscribed to the school of boobs are awesome. And oh my god what is wrong with me? It's like being fifteen and in the dorms again," Harry groaned, thumping his head on the table. 

"Problem?"

"Fuck off," Harry mumbled, not needing to look to know the vampire was smirking. "Just so you know, this has nothing to do with your emotional tweaky thing - though that is cool and I want details later- and everything to do with my regression into a teen. Albeit a less angsty, more world aware one."

"So you don't think you're protesting a little too hard about the gay thing?" Jasper smirked. Harry narrowed his eyes.

"I'm not that much of a teenager. I cheerfully admit to liking sex in all forms, especially the threesome form. I'm comfortable in my sexuality - having a clan of veela take interest in you will do wonders for your self esteem," Harry smirked back. "But for the record, not cool. If I was really a teen you could have given me self-doubt and everything."

"Do you ever shut up?"

"Rarely. Panic if it happens, it's usually a sign of plotting. Or I'm imagining you naked."

"What happened to not gay, don't want to sleep with you or your brothers?"

"Bi, so still not gay, and really it is mostly about the sex. I've done the whole vampire sex thing, though, and I've got to say it's overrated. Good stamina but other than that, depends on the vamp as to quality of the lay. Incubus is good if you want great sex but the whole having to prevent them from draining your life force at the end kind of spoils the mood. Personally I prefer veela, though that may just be the loyalty to my not-quite-sister-in-law talking," Harry rambled, taking great joy in the discomfort of the vampire beside him. It was even odds whether a vampire would be of the seen-everything, unflappable type or the old timer, prudish type. It seemed like Harry had struck gold finding the latter. 

"Are you aware that your mouth is open and words are falling out?" the vampire asked through gritted teeth.

"Only vaguely. You don't think I actually pay attention to what I say, do you? I mean, have you listened to me? I'd drive myself crazy!" Harry exclaimed.

"Mr Potter and Mr Whitlock, if you have something to share with the class, please speak up so we can all hear," the teacher snapped.

Harry apologised in fluent French. Or mostly fluent anyway - Fleur always said he sounded like a five year old who had no concept of verbs and tense, but the teacher seemed somewhat mollified when she replied in French and he understood. Threats of detention didn't need translating - it was all in the tone.

Of course the vampire responded in kind, getting everything perfect down to the accent. Harry could feel the smug satisfaction seeping from him.

Unable to annoy him with words, he resorted to something that used to drive Sanguini's clan mad. He ran his biro down the binding of his notebook, not loud enough for the class to hear but more than enough to drive a vampire up the wall. The steady stream of quiet clicks that he could hear were ten times as loud and infinitely more annoying to a vampire's sensitive hearing. Or so he was told when Sanguini threatened to _turn him into_ a notebook if he carried on. 

Apparently Jasper felt the same way, if the sudden feeling of worry and caution that forced themselves into his chest were any indication. He smirked smugly at the vampire, and sped up the swipe of his pen, making one long clacking noise, still too quiet for anyone away from their table to hear.

When the bell finally rang, Harry half expected the blonde vampire to emulate his brother and race out the door. Instead he remained where he was, barely moving.

"So... I have gym next. Can I count on your company or will I have to entertain myself?" Harry asked when the vampire made no move to stand.

"Fortunately I get to miss out on that joyous experience," Jasper muttered, finally standing and gathering up his things.

"Pity. Guess I'll see you later then," he said, before an evil grin spread across his face. Grabbing the back of the blonde's head, the wizard pulled him into a kiss, releasing him before he could do more than growl. Vampire speed was nothing against bolt from the blue actions that left them too stunned to react. You had to make a speedy getaway, though, if you wanted to avoid imminent maiming . Luckily for Harry, a vampire keeping a low profile can't use super speed and the wizard had disappeared into the excitedly chattering crowd before Jasper got hold of him.

"Oh. My. God! Oh my god, oh my god, ohmygod!" chanted Jessica, who had appeared next to Harry as soon as he left Jasper's side. "You just kissed _Jasper Whitlock_. Oh my god!"

"Yes, you said that already," Hary said dryly.

"What was it like? Why Jasper? I thought you liked Edward? Is he still with Alice? Are _you_ with Alice? Have you given up on Edward?" the girl babbled, not letting Harry get a word in.

"Sneaky, because, sort of, yes, not right now, no," Harry answered succinctly when she stopped talking, refusing to elaborate as she stared at him. "What? I can't give you all the answers, it'd spoil your fun."

"Harry, you can't do that to me," she whined, giving him wide, hopeful eyes. Unfortunately for her, he had a metamorphmagus nephew who could give him literal puppy eyes. He was immune.

"Sure I can. All I have to do is keep my trap shut. See?" he smirked. He laughed at her frustrated look, ducking into the boys' changing rooms before she could press him for more.

"Dude, did you seriously kiss Whitmore outside French?" Mike asked him the second he spotted him.

"Yes. Yes I did," the wizard said smugly. It didn't escape his notice that Edward was glaring daggers at him from the corner. It also didn't escape his notice that several of the lads who were in the middle of changing were giving him uncomfortable looks. Sighing, he considered his options. When a smirk appeared on his face, the vampire in the corner pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Making quick work of changing into his gym gear, he climbed onto one of the locker room benches and whistled. "Gentlemen, if I may have your attention. Yes, I am gay. No, I do not want to jump you. No, I am not watching you change. Any worry you feel when I'm around should be because I may or may not be clinically insane, not because you're worried my gayness might infect you. Be not afraid and learn to accept your fellow man and your life will that much more fulfilling. Or so the fortune cookie told me. But seriously, don't be a jackass about the gay thing - my revenge will be swift and unusual. That will be all, folks," he grinned as he hopped off the bench amid bemused stares. Being a teenager again might not be all bad, now he had the self-assuredness to not give a monkey's what people thought of him.

"Thank you, Mr Potter, for that rousing speech," a voice drawled sarcastically from the back of the room.

"Glad you enjoyed it, coach," Harry grinned. "I was feeling inspired."

"Yeah, well save your inspiration for English class."

"Sir, yes sir," the wizard said, giving the man a lazy salute.

"Do you know how to play dodgeball?" the teacher asked with an eye roll at the pseudo-teenager's behaviour.

"Don't get hit by the ball while trying to hit other people with the ball?"

"Good enough," the coach grunted.

Once the class had been sorted into teams, Harry was delighted to find himself against Edward's team. It wasn't every day he got to nail a vampire in the face with a ball without fearing imminent and bloody revenge.

As he hurled the ball at the tousled haired not-teen, he wondered how long it would take the vampire family to track him down after school.


	3. Fantastic Humans and How To Look After Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Fantastic Beast 5+1 fic idea I had that I haven't had time to write. I still like the idea, so maybe I'll get around to it at some point.

** Foreword from Frank the Thunderbird **

Humans are a curious species, both in that they are inquisitive and often behave oddly. Those who have encountered humans before may have found them easily startled and oblivious to all attempts to communicate. 

Despite their weak senses and ignorance to most normally observed laws of nature, humans are not to be underestimated. A lone human is an easy target but in groups they become aggressive and pose a threat to even the fiercest of predators. Many an incautious creature has met their end at the hands of a human interested in their hide, or imprisoned to be shown off to other humans. 

The largest threat humans pose is their unrelenting ferocity when they feel challenged or afraid. It is advisable to avoid human interaction as much as possible, and stay away from human settlements unless it is completely unavoidable. Humans who feel threatened have been known to hunt species to extinction, not stopping their hunt until they have killed every individual they can find. They are also fond of collecting trophies, often horns, claws and hides, though they have been known to take anything from blood to strands of fur.

However, amongst this violent and often irrational species, you may find a few individuals worth adopting. A friendly human is a loyal, nurturing creature that comes with many benefits. Such a human enjoys sharing their food and shelter, and may provide a level of protection not commonly found in the wild. Caring for these humans can be a challenge as they often have little recognition of their own mortality, and have a tendency to find chaos rarely seen in other species.

This guide has been written by some of the most experienced creatures to have adopted a human. They were my companions for many months and have the care of a human down to a fine art. Their human was one of the gentlest creatures I have had the fortune to meet, if one of the most troublesome.

I hope the experience and expertise of my old friends enables more creatures to have positive relationships with humans.


	4. Fantastic Humans and How To Look After Them (ii)

** Pickett the Bowtruckle **

Humans are small walking trees. Stupid, small walking trees. But every responsible bowtruckle knows protecting a tree, no matter how odd or how incapable of basic survival it is, is our sacred duty.

Reasons why human trees are stupid:

1\. They forget about nutrients _all the time_.

Training your human tree not to neglect this basic need, _that even saplings know is important_ , requires a sneaky and determined bowtruckle. Humans don't have roots and trying to nourish them directly by putting leaves and other nutrient rich things into their nutrient-absorbing cavity upsets them*. Human structure is weird and inefficient, and they use the same cavity for taking in oxygen as they do for nutrients; filling it with sustenance temporarily prevents them from taking in oxygen. Human trees can cope with this inconvenient arrangement if they are expecting the addition of nutrients. If they are not expecting it they make all sorts of interesting noises** and may start changing colour. 

The easiest way to get a human tree to remember to consume the nutrients they need is to fill their drinks with leaves and insects. Even when a human tree is starving themselves of nutrients, they are oddly obsessed with a drink made of boiled leaves and become quite agitated when they don't have any. They are very picky about which leaves they use (one sensible quality of human trees is their pickiness about the leaves they use - their criteria for picking said leaves doesn't always make sense but at least they try), and filling the drink with other random leaves will prevent them from drinking it but will draw their attention to the fact they haven't eaten for too long. Only add insects to the mix if the leaves fail to work. Human trees don't like having live insects in their mouth (absolutely no appreciation for good nutrition!) and will definitely notice this approach, but they get quite upset it happens too often.

*Always use the cavity at the top of your human tree. They get very, very upset if you go near the other one.

**While these noises can be entertaining, repeatedly causing them can make your human tree vengeful. This will manifest in behaviours such as ignoring you, trying to put you into another tree and withholding the best woodlice.

2\. Locks baffle them.

Why they use locks at all is questionable. The second they lose a key or forget a spell they can't undo the lock and immediately need saving. What it is they struggle with so much is a mystery. Opening the most difficult human lock is only marginally more difficult than digging woodlice out of a rotten log. Still, human trees find them baffling and impossible to overcome so be prepared to rescue your human tree when they get stuck, because they _will_ get stuck.

3\. They have a worrying obsession with fire.

Human trees aren't quite as flammable as normal trees or bowtruckles but fire is still very bad for them. Trying to communicate this danger to them is futile. 

Human trees love fire. They surround themselves with it all the time. Big fires on the ground or in walls, small fires stuck farther up walls or hanging in baskets, tiny little fires sitting on top of wax sticks, even little balls of fire floating around by magic. It is _everywhere_. Fortunately human trees do have a tiny shred of sense and respond with the appropriate panic and action if a fire unexpectedly gets bigger. All we long-suffering bowtruckles can do is keep a very watchful eye on the surrounding fires and alert our human trees immediately if something changes. And stay well out of the reach of flames if/when our human trees do have a fire related problem.

4\. They are oblivious to animals trying to eat them.

Human trees think stalking behaviour is funny and cute, even when it is them being stalked. It is impossible to get them to understand that if a stalking animal catches them, it will eat them. There is nothing a bowtruckle can do about this other than be prepared to defend their tree if necessary. 

5\. They don't understand that they need looking after.

Despite everything a hard working bowtruckle does to keep their human tree safe and thriving, human trees are convinced that they are the ones caring for us. Trying to convince them otherwise is a waste of time. A wise bowtruckle will let their human tree have their delusions and will put their energy to better use, making sure their human tree doesn't kill itself doing something stupid while they aren't looking.

 

A human tree is hard work, but every bowtruckle knows that the most difficult trees are the most rewarding. A well cared for human tree makes a home that will be the envy of all others.


End file.
